


May the Best Queen Hold the Crown

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Community: springkink, Established Relationship, Genderfuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some experiments are more successful than others. This was a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May the Best Queen Hold the Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://mendax.livejournal.com/profile)[**mendax**](http://mendax.livejournal.com/) for the beta!

Tatsumi rarely varied his routines. There was no need to, most of the time. His tasks rarely changed, and the office's rhythms were familiar and comfortable. Safe.

Watari was much less reliable. Sometimes he stayed in the office laboratory for hours after most of their co-workers had left; sometimes he hurried home to his own lab. Often, Tatsumi had no idea where he'd gone to or what he was doing unless they crossed paths in the office.

This situation suited them both perfectly, unless Watari was planning something. Then Tatsumi became a target; his predictability made him easy for the office scientist to track. So Tatsumi was not particularly surprised when a shadow fell across his desk at six pm, when he usually began planning dinner (cup noodles in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays). "Hello," he said, not looking up. "Do you need--"

"Tatsumi," Watari said, _"look."_

Tatsumi raised his head.

Watari had breasts. They were large, round, and apparently unrestrained underneath Watari's usual black turtleneck. "What do you think?" Watari asked, grinning like a madman.

 _I think you need a brassiere,_ Tatsumi thought to himself. "Did you finally--"

Blond curls shook _no._ "I decided I should try micro-planning. If I move the needle on enough small aspects -- mammary glands, DNA, the urogenital system...."

This was more than Tatsumi needed to know. "So you are counting this a small success, at least?"

"Exactly!"

"Well. Congratulations are in order, then." Watari's breasts kept shuddering with the scientist's every movement. As animated as Watari was, the effect was...distracting.

"Dinner," Watari said, in a tone that was in no way a request. "Seven-thirty. That Italian place you said was all right. I'll pay."

"I suppose if you--" Tatsumi said, but Watari was already gone.

  
"That Italian place" was busy when Tatsumi arrived at seven twenty-five, and Tatsumi scanned the bar for Watari's golden hair.

Ever since that night in Kyoto, where they'd clung together out of worry and desparation more than desire, they'd had ... whatever this was. Sometimes Watari would come up with some ridiculous stunt to get him into bed, sometimes he'd simply offer. Tatsumi rarely said no, for reasons he chose not to examine too much. Watari had been surprisingly discreet, and respected him when he wanted time to himself. It wasn't romance, simply two people meeting a mutual need.

At first, he didn't see Watari at all; then his gaze settled on a lithe, tall blond woman, wearing a dark suit with a skirt that hit just above the knee, her hair pulled back in a French braid. Three men were vying for her -- his -- attention. He walked closer.

"I'm sorry." Watari had pitched his voice higher, but his accent was thick as ever. "I'm afraid I'm seeing someone."

"Watari-san," Tatsumi said. "Do we have a table?"

Watari swiveled on the stool and smiled at him. His eyes were outlined with some kind of makeup, and his lips were coral pink. "We will in five more minutes," he said cheerfully. "I did expect you to be on time."

  
Later, back in Watari's apartment, they kissed until Watari's lipstick smeared and his hair pulled loose. "I want to watch you touch yourself," Watari purred, pulling Tatsumi further into the bedroom.

 _"Watari-san!"_ Tatsumi could feel the blush crossing his face and sinking into his body. Watari was always so enthusiastic and unguarded in bed; he brought Tatsumi out of himself, even when Tatsumi wanted to pull inward.

Sometimes, when Tatsumi was very tired or very weak, he remembered making love to Tsuzuki. What they had had (broken, fleeting, so sweet even the memory threatens to destroy Tatsumi) was very different; hesitant, slow, careful, as though they were both made of glass.

Watari pulled away clothes, whispered filthy words into his ear, touched him, touched him, touched him. He loved Tatsumi begging, lost, weak. Once, after a particularly challenging session, Tatsumi had said aloud, "Did you used to break things, just so you could put them back together later?"

Watari's eyes had sparkled. "Maybe," he said.

Watari was pushing him back against his oversized Western bed, and Tatsumi had to move quickly to keep his balance as he sat. Watari kneeled on the mattress, his knees straddling Tatsumi's lap, skirt rucked around his waist to reveal lean legs and dark garter straps. He pulled at the buttons of Tatsumi's vest. "Why do you wear so many clothes?"

"Because I work in an _office,_ Watari-san," Tatsumi snapped. Watari really wasn't much less-dressed, between the jacket, the blouse, the bra--

"Do you want me to leave the stockings on?"

Tatsumi considered for a moment, then nodded.

  
Tatsumi was a bit tired the next morning, but it was nothing a few large cups of coffee couldn't fix. He was missing one of his cufflinks, though, so he stopped by Watari's lab to see if it had turned up.

Watari was out, and the laboratory was in its usual chaos; beakers bubbling, notes scattered across the counter, birds chirping happily. Tatsumi caught his name on one of the stacks of paper and walked over to investigate; probably a request for more funds Watari knew he couldn't provide....

The notes were in Watari's erratic handwriting, but after their years of working together, it was easy to read: _Huge success. Breasts were large and sensitive. Tatsumi stayed for breakfast! ♥ ♥ Continued experimentation absolutely necessary. Next attempt should focus on...._

Tatsumi swallowed.

It would have been ludicrous to assume Watari did _not_ want to have sex with him, but to have such certainty that Watari enjoyed whatever it was they had -- that he might, indeed, want more -- was unexpected.

And then he noticed the small note at the bottom. _Who else should I test--?_

His hand went to his chest--

003 hooted behind him, and he started. Her master was nowhere near, which was a relief; he was embarrassed enough to be caught spying by the little bird. "I don't want breasts," he told her.

She settled on his shoulder and cooed. Perhaps that was agreement. She rubbed her beak at the finger he offered, and he ruffled the feathers by her neck. "I suppose I do owe him dinner, though. Would you like to come, too?"

She hooted.

"I'll get out of his lab, then, and send him an email."

Did she nod before she fluttered off his shoulder and back onto her perch? Perhaps he needed another cup of coffee. Another dinner wouldn't solve anything, but perhaps they didn't need to solve anything quite yet.

Perhaps Watari was right and they should merely experiment further.


End file.
